


To Be Free

by RavenXavier



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Charles Is a Darling, Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slave!Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenXavier/pseuds/RavenXavier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, Erik wished he didn't care about young, lonely, broken Charles Xavier. It would have made escaping this mad house so much easier. If it hadn't been for the boy, he would have run away a long time ago [...]"</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Free

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody ! I'm sorry to post this story without having anyone to beta-read it before, but I'm pretty sure that I'm soon going to be deprived of my computer and I just really wanted to publish this because if you like it I have a surprisingly high numbers of ideas for the Erik and Charles of this universe (mostly sad, which is even more surprising). 
> 
> Anyway, I'm very sorry for every mistake you're going to see but I hope that you'll be able to enjoy the story anyway :).

Sometimes, Erik wished he didn't care about young, lonely, broken Charles Xavier. It would have made escaping this mad house so much easier. If it hadn't been for the boy, he would have run away a long time ago – he knew how to do so, and how to survive once he'd break every last remaining items of his status of slave that he _supposedly_ couldn't take off.

Yet here he was – twenty and still trapped in the Xavier's Mansion (the Owner didn't like it when the slaves called it that, but everybody knew that Brian Xavier's ghost still hovered around the place and even if he hadn't, the house was Charles's to have, not _Him)._ How many nights had he took his bag out, ready to flee while it was still dark, before thinking of Charles and what he would think if Erik didn't wake him up in the morning ?

Erik had wanted his freedom since he was old enough to understand that he didn't have it, and his revenge against his first Owner since the man had killed his mother in front of him – but for some absurd reason, he wanted to protect Charles Xavier more (not that he did a good job at it. Charles _wouldn't let him,_ the idiot).

Nights like this one, though – clear, warm and _so perfect for running –_ were the hardest. Erik couldn't sleep, his mind planning despite himself the best paths to take in order not to be seen from one of the windows. He shared his room with Armando who wasn't usually here at night because he played the guard dog of the Mistress and Janos, whose sleep wasn't ever disturbed even by the loudest sound in the room. He wouldn't be declared missing before nine in the morning, when he had to wake up Charles. And by then, he would be already too far away to get caught. He _knew it._

He wouldn't leave, though.

He had missed his last chance to leave three months ago, just before Charles's sixteenth birthday. With the recent (horrible, monstrous) events that had taken place, Erik couldn't think of leaving anymore – at least, not without Charles with him, and that was an impossible fantasy.

Erik sighed and turned his eyes away for the roof reluctantly. He buried his head into his pillow and tried to fall asleep once more but there was an heavy, uncomfortable pressure on his chest – the same bad feeling that wouldn't leave him alone since the first night...

“Oh screw it.” he muttered to himself.

He rose and blindly reached for the tee-shirt he had removed when he'd went to bed earlier. The room was pitched-dark (there was an infinity of rooms in the House, but of course slaves' quarters were deep under ground). He had lived for ten years in it, though, and he knew perfectly well how to avoid the beds of Janos and Armando in order to get to the door, so it wasn't hard to make his way out. There were small candles in the corridor (no electricity in here) that burned in the night for the ones who had to work when everybody else was asleep, like Armando.

He went to the stairs that led the closest to where he wanted to go and took the steps two by two, his heart beating too fast. He walked quickly without looking around to be sure that no one was around (it had to be at least 3 a.m by now – even the Owner would have retired to bed, the bastard) but stopped as he arrived in front of Charles's room He hated that he couldn't be sure anymore of what he was going to find when he'll open the door. He wished... He wished to see the sleeping form of Charles, and to hear only his quiet breathing – as he had, before, feeling like a creeper each times he lingered a bit too long, only looking at the peaceful face of the young boy.

He took a short inspiration and turned the door knob.

The room – huge and full of books – was largely illuminated by the moon because nobody had closed the curtains. Right in front of the window stood a large bed and Charles was there indeed, laying in silence, the sheets only covering his legs, but he was not sleeping. He was shaking.

“Charles ?”

It was hard to keep the rage out of his voice – even harder not to let his anger show on his face or on his body but he tried his best because... Because by now he knew that it was the last thing Charles needed after..

“You're here.” Charles sighed very softly, without moving at all.

“Of course I am.” He answered, his voice rougher that he would have liked.

Erik walked slowly towards the bed. He hated himself for it, but his gaze lingered over the pale torso of Charles, the soft light of the moon illumining his perfect skin and rosy nipples – it was the chest of those princes in stories, born of the mystical love between a human and a fairy. Erik's arousal was as new as unwanted though, and it was completely killed when he looked at Charles's face.

His mouth was red – redder than usual – bitten and bloody and there was the distinct shape of a hand still burning his cheek. The worse was the white trace of semen that was drying all across his face, though. Erik stopped and inhaled deeply, his fingers curling up into fists. He closed his eyes for a moment, and imagined beating the bastard to death. He would do it. He _would._ He didn't care about the consequences, if only it meant that he didn't have to see...

“Please, don't.” Charles said.

“ _Charles.._ ”

“You're too good. You are.” The boy continued.

“I'm not.” Erik retorted. “I won't do anything if you don't want me to, though. You know that.”

“And that's why you're better.” He whispered.

Erik wanted to say that it only made him a slave, forced to submit to his master's will, but he knew that that was untrue. Even if a stupid piece of paper explicitly affirmed that he was the Xaviers' ( _Xaviers._ Not...), it didn't mean that he himself accepted the fact more than he had to to survive. He had disobey orders, before, especially coming from the drunken Mistress and her non-sense, but murder was a whole other level, he supposed. And Charles... Charles _asked._ He so rarely ordered.

“Did he... Did do everything ?” He finally asked, as detached as he could.

“Only the mouth.” Charles answered. “He was drunk, I think.”

Erik nodded sharply and went directly to the door in the left corner of the room that led to the Charles's personal bathroom. He didn't bother with the light, only grabbing a towel under the sink. He wetted it carefully with warm water then came back as quickly as he could to Charles.

He sat next to him with slow movements and raised the towel to the boy's face, who tensed briefly before relaxing into the touch, letting himself being taken care of. Erik took his time to washed off every trace the Owner could have left, visible and invisible. He wished he could swear to Charles that it would never happen again, that he would be here next time to stop him before he get to do anything, but if murder wasn't an option, then Erik's presence in Charles's room in the middle on the night would made things even worse, for both of them, and they knew it all too well.

Charles's eyes raised suddenly to meet his when Erik put the towel away.

“Will you stay ?” He asked.

_I want to,_ Erik thought.

“It's not wise. You know that.”

“But it's safe.” Charles protested (and finally, he was starting to become alive again, not just a broken doll unable to even raise his voice enough to be heard). “He won't.. It's safe. You're the one who's supposed to wake me up anyway.”

“Do you know what would happen if someone understand that I spent the night here ?” Erik frowned.

Charles snorted – but it was far sadder than derisive : “They'll just think I grew up enough.”

Erik tensed immediately and tried to move away but Charles raised his hand and his fingers went to touch Erik's collar, lightly, as if afraid of what would happen if he did more.

“I'm sorry.” He murmured. “I'm... I didn't mean to imply anything I swear.”

“You were.” Erik replied flatly. “But I understand. It's all right.”

“I'm going to free you, Erik.” The boy insisted more strongly. “When I'm eighteen I'm – He won't be able to do anything. I'll free you. I swear to you.”

His hand moved slightly, brushing Erik's neck and jaw line. Their eyes had yet to leave each other's. Erik's breathing quickened despite himself. It wasn't hard to believe Charles – the look on his face was earnest and determined.

“I'll even help you if you need anything. You'll be able to do whatever you want.” Charles started again, his voice suddenly incredibly soft. “I know that you would like to leave now but... Can you... Can you wait ? Just two years. Two more years and then... Will you... ?”

When his fingers finally approached Erik's lips, shaking again, Erik took them in his own hand and then gently kissed Charles's knuckles.

“Anything for you.” He whispered.

There was a brief silence – the good kind of silence, full of anticipation and nervous excitation, the one that came when something great had just been revealed – then, in one surprisingly swift movement, Charles threw himself on Erik and clung to him. It wasn't anything that Erik had expected, to be honest.

But it was more, somehow.

“Thank you.” Charles breathed in his neck. “Thank you. Thank you...”

“Charles...”

Erik buried his nose in the boy's hair and closed his eyes.

“It's okay.” He soothed. “You... We'll be okay.”

It was a lie, Erik thought, but a reassuring one that Charles needed to hear right now. The boy relaxed in his arms and then... Then he started to cry silently, which enraged and relieved Erik at once because it's been three months, three months since Kurt Marko had started to rape his own step-son as if he was... As if he was a _slave_ and Charles had gone into shock, had gone silent and limp every times but he had never ever cried and Erik knew that this was a bad thing (Erik remembered that he had cried after his own “first night” with the Mistress, disgusted with himself and the world and Janos, of all people, had been there for him).

So he held Charles even tighter and didn't say anything more. Charles cried until there wasn't any tears left to shed and Erik hold on, pressing light kisses on his brown locks.

“Stay, please.” Charles asked again later. 

“Okay.” Erik agreed.

They didn't let go of each other as they laid back down on the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is situated in a Universe where Slavery is very much okay and every free person rich enough has at least a slave in his house. Erik has been a slave all his life ; After his First Owner (Shaw) killed his mother in front of him, he promised himself he would kill the man but before he could do that, Shaw sold him to Brian Xavier. There he met the young son of Xavier, who immediately started following him around until Erik snapped after Charles saw him crying. Several months later, Brian Xavier killed himself, and after this moment, Charles and Erik became unlikely yet incredibly close friends and Charles promised himself that he would free Erik as soon as he could. Sharon married Marko, and then bad stuff kept happening, to both of them.


End file.
